My Only Friend is Imaginary
by badriddance
Summary: Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme. AU. What if instead of a mask, Walter had made a life-size doll out of the ink-blot fabric as an imaginary friend and it had come to life and taken on the identity of Rorschach?
1. Chapter 1

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rorschach came back in through the window as Walter was getting ready for work.

They looked at each other for a moment, taking each other in. Rorschach was soaking wet from being out in the rain that had started at about 2 am and the blood that clearly wasn't his. Walter was in his cleanest work clothes, and eating a bowl of cornflakes. After a moment, Rorschach dug in his pockets for some sugar cubes which he handed over. Walter gratefully crumbled them up and sprinkled them on the cereal.

"How was it?" he asked, a little timidly, but anxious to hear about it.

"Good." The gloves flexed a little. "Stopped a bank men in black. Only their eyes showing. Punished them. Nite Owl defused their bomb."

Walter raised his eyebrows. He had trained himself to not show expression to most people, but imaginary friends were for opening up to. He loved hearing about the nightly adventures, so Rorschach had learned to wax a little more chatty for his friend's sake. Rorschach settled in the only other chair in the room and leaned back, taking his hat off and turning it in his hands. "There was an arsonist too. Nite Owl threw one of his cresents. Made the accelerant bundle flare up in arsonist's face. Took him to hospital. And we finished a gangfight. Racial differences. Nite Owl dropped into the middle of them from the fire escape. Scared some of them into running. I met those at the end of the alley, and worked my way back. Broken arms and noses mostly, but Nite Owl broke one's back. Don't think he meant to, didn't point it out that he had. Let one run away to spread the word that there's scarier things than them on the streets at night."

"Explains the smokey smell," Walter almost laughed, taking his bowl to the sink. "Did you tear any stitches?"

"....Do have a puncture. Knife jab. Nite Owl saw. Scared him. Don't know if I convinced him that my coat and layers took most of it. Might be suspicious."

"Oh," Walter said. "Is...is that why he... broke the man's back?"

"Might be," Rorschach shrugged. "It's nothing that can't wait until after work. You don't want to to be late again."

"Ok." Walter didn't have a raincoat, so he fumbled into his usual jacket even though it would soak up the rain like a sponge. "How...How was Nite Owl?"

Rorschach tilted his head inquisitively and Walter tried not to act flustered. It was hard to hide infatuation from someone who was made of the conflicting thoughts from inside his own head, but Rorschach also understood well enough not to make an issue of it.

"I think he likes me," Rorschach said carefully. "Worries about me getting hurt. Reacts violently in my defense. Invited me to have coffee at his house after patrol."

"Really?" Walter brightened, with only a small dose of envy mixed with his interest. "What's his house like?"

"Didn't go." Rorschach admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "Didn't see the need. Can't drink anyway."

"Well, no..." Walter wilted a bit, pulling his collar up to keep the rain off his neck as long as possible. Rorschach got up and walked over to his closet where he rested by day. Walter's voice stopped him with his glove on the doorknob. "But you could've gone and told me about it."

"I should introduce you two," Rorschach mused and Walter went nearly as red as his hair. They looked at each other, both about to disappear behind a door.

"You know better," Walter said, smiling ruefully. "I'm nobody."

"Under masks," Rorschach answered, beginning to sink bonelessly to the floor of the closet, folding over on himself like an empty wetsuit. "We all are." He pulled the closet door shut. Walter called a quiet good-bye, and went out the front door, letting all animation fade from his face and settling into a mask of his own.


	2. Chapter 2

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"More themed villains," Rorschach said. "Been awhile."

"Everything comes back in style eventually," Nite Owl said, smiling. Maybe this bunch had started off as Top Knots, but the look had evolved into a bad ninja cliche. They weren't nearly as quiet or graceful as ninjas, which is why it was so easy to spot them hopping around the back lot of the museum.

"They did plan it out well," Nite Owl admitted, listening to the police radio calls over their radio. When the alarm had been tripped, security had come running, only to be trapped when the gang set off the automatic fire doors by also tripping the fire alarms. The sprinklers had gone off too, drenching the sealed off room, and then the electric wires the gang had set up all over the floor started electrocuting them. Cutting the power hadn't stopped the screams from inside, so the wires were getting juice from somewhere else. Rescue teams were so busy trying to figure out how to get in and what to do when they doors opened and the water spilled out, carrying a potentially lethal voltage with it, that they hadn't thought to send anyone to cover the other exits. Rorschach had.

They hovered over in the Owlship until they saw a half dozen or so black-clad people hurry out of a back entrance, one of them carrying something nearly as long as he was tall, thin enough to grip in one hand, and wrapped in what looked like bright silk.

"Sword," Nite Owl said, adjusting his goggles. "All that for a sword?" Rorschach didn't offer any insight, he was already opening the hatch.

The gang, confronted with the two heroes, froze in their tracks. They didn't speak, which was a shame. It would've been hilarious to hear maybe a Brooklyn accent coming out of the ninja get-up. The pause stretched tight for maybe ten seconds, then at some unspoken signal, the ninjas attacked.

They were clumsy but tenacious, holding on and fighting while they were pummeled. Even if they weren't experienced fighters, they still had a plan, attacking in a way to shield the one with the sword, so he could run. Nite Owl caught on to the tactic quickly and shoved his opponent into the swordsman's way, blocking his path with his own cohorts. Rorschach just waded in, all fists and elbows and rib-cracking kicks.

Time either slowed down or sped up in fights. This one seemed to be the latter. The black outfits blurred into the dark street, making it seem like they were fighting a weird mess of disembodied hands and faces. Nite Owl knocked the two grappling with him flying to give him a second to adjust his goggles. As his vision cleared, he saw the swordsman trying to creep around the fray Rorschach was in the middle of and lunged forward to stop him. Another thief tried to tackle him, hanging on to him more than fighting him. Nite Owl sank a knee into that one's stomach, making him wheeze, but then there was a flash of metallic brightness.

A blade burst out of Rorschach's chest and plunged the whole scene into slow motion. There wasn't any blood, and Rorschach's body arched from the impact. The swirling mask tilted quizzically to look at the sword he'd been run through with. Nite Owl was frozen mid-punch, horror smashing open the visible part of his face. The thief punched him, bloodying his nose before seeing what he was seeing.

Rorschach squirmed on the blade, then spun, twisting inhumanly to face the man who had stabbed him. That man broke his ninja-silence to scream at the sight. Rorschach charged, impaling himself all the way to the hilt and swinging an arm out to deliver a skull-rattling haymaker, just as the terrified villain ripped the sword out sideways, opening a gash that cut him halfway in two. The punch still connected, sending him sprawling and the sword skittering across the pavement.

Rorschach turned halfway, prepared to go on fighting, but the remaining two were running away and Nite Owl didn't seem to even notice that or the blood from his nose. His jaw was slack, but that was all that could really be seen of his expression. His body language screamed shock and Rorschach quickly clutched a hand to the gash, covering it. It was useless of course, and much too late.

"You're not even bleeding," Nite Owl said, just standing there while the two thieves disappeared into the dark.

"Work to do." Rorschach stepped over the sword, not looking at Nite Owl. He made to go after the fleeing two, but stopped when his partner still didn't move.

"I thought he'd killed you," Nite Owl said, sounding distant and stunned. "Three feet of steel through your chest like a pin through a butterfly. And... and that thing you did? With the, with the... twisting? What was that? How did you..." His voice trailed off. "What _**are**_ you?"

The question made Rorschach falter as being impaled on a sword hadn't. He made a sound, fidgeting, then lifted his arm to look at the slash for a moment. It had nearly taken the arm off, he realized, slicing him from chest to armpit. He took the edges in his other hand, holding it closed. Walter could fix it, sew him up good as new, fix the coat, and all the clothes underneath, but Nite Owl might never trust him again. That upset Rorschach more than he thought it would. All this time, he had thought it was Walter hero-worshiping the man in the owl suit, but the thought of Nite Owl cringing from him, thinking he was unnatural, not being his partner anymore made a coldness open up under his shifting skin.

"Can't tell," he said, hanging his head. He didn't want to lie, didn't know how to explain without exposing Walter. Uncertain footsteps made him look up again. Nite Owl was approaching him, hands held out.

"Well, I mean... Are you hurt? Is, is it _painful_?" Nite Owl leaned slightly, as if he could see around Rorschach's arm to the 'injury'. "Let me... let me help." His hands shook, but reached out, and Rorschach was grateful enough for the lack of disgust to not pull away at first. Trust Nite Owl to think of kindness before horror. No matter what he thought Rorschach might really be, he was willing to overlook it to help. He felt Nite Owl's left hand circle his arm gently and the right one gingerly lift the flap of slashed trench coat. Underneath, was the constant swirl of black on white, which made Nite Owl jump. He had thought it was was just a mask, didn't know it was the whole body. The grip on his arm raised it up and a gloved finger carefully began to lift the ragged edge of that fabric as well. Sudden panic made Rorschach jerk.

Nite Owl would see. He wouldn't understand that Rorschach wasn't an empty shell. Walter might be able to explain, but he wasn't here and without an explanation, Nite Owl would never, never understand what it was he wasn't seeing. And Rorschach couldn't bear to think of what he would think when he did.

"That hurt?" Nite Owl's voice rose with chagrin. "I'm sorry! I- Wait!"

"Have to go!" Rorschach gasped and bolted. There was a ripping sound and Nite Owl actually screamed as Rorschach's arm tore off in his hand. There had only been a shred of fabric holding it on and his dash had been too sudden and violent for Nite Owl to let go in time. Rorschach heard his name shouted, high and desperate, but didn't look back. He ran all the way home, crashing back into the apartment so noisily that he terrified poor Walter out of peaceful sleep and collapsed in his friend's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the Nest, Dan sat, studying the arm. He had his back to a wall so he could see both the stairs and the tunnel in case his partner showed up. Someone as wrapped up in symmetry as Rorschach would have to have his arm back, right? In the meantime, he shed his own uniform and did his best to get his mind around what was on the table in front of him.

It was a trench coat sleeve, over a suit coat sleeve, over a dress shirt sleeve, over an arm. It was like the arm of a ragdoll, made of the same shifting fabric Rorschach's mask was. Now that it wasn't attached, the ink blot patterns were frozen still on the white skin. Dan had eased the glove back to see the neat stitches on the fingers and knuckles. Whoever had made this had known his (her?) way around a needle. There was a lot of care put into the stitches. Dan saw a tiny brownish stain on a particularly complicated part that looked like a very old drop of blood. It was almost inside the seam, which made him think that it had come from Rorschach's unknown creator.

That thought sent his brain staggering and he had to stop for a moment. He could accept that Rorschach wasn't exactly human. The existence of Dr. Manhattan was proof that there were stranger things than humans afoot in the world. But Manhattan had a scientific explanation. He had been human before his accident. There wasn't anything human about the piece in front of him but the shape. There was nothing inside. Dan had peeked into the arm, as shyly as if he was sneaking a look under a skirt. He didn't know what he expected to see. Swirling protoplasm? Sparkling pixie dust? Rags, sand, sawdust, cotton fluff, grave dirt, or even beans? Like the beanbag owl he had as a kid?

He had seen this arm lift criminals in the air, punch teeth out of jaws, and blood out of noses. He had always been amazed at the power in his partner. Where had that strength come from? Someone had made this arm, made the whole thing, probably. But who? And why? And what had...animated it? Possessed it? Brought it to life? Because Rorschach was definitely alive. Whatever he was, he had a personality, opinions, even a sense of humor, dry as it was. Dan found it hard to believe that Rorschach didn't have a soul. But where had it come from, and how had it take up residence in the... suit? Skin? Body? What exactly was it??

He had been puzzling over it for hours and was no closer to anything near a plausible theory. He had a pounding headache, made worse by his punched nose. Maybe he could ask Ozymandias or Manhattan. They might come up with an answer he couldn't see. As soon as that thought tiptoed into sight, though, he banished it. Rorschach hadn't wanted _him_ to find out. His own partner. He would never want the others to know. Dan couldn't betray him that way even as curiosity gnawed at him. The only solution seemed to be to find Rorschach, and ask him outright.

Rorschach had always been secretive, which made perfect sense now. He would be impossible to find if he put his mind to be. He might even shed his costume (skin?) and be completely invisible. He might be here now, watching to see what his partner did with his limb. It wasn't the first time that night Dan had broken out into goosebumps.

If he couldn't find Rorschach, maybe he could find his creator. Maybe there was enough of that blood spot left to test. And the handiwork was professional. Dan found it hard to imagine somebody's Grandmama stitching out a lifesize doll skin out of the constantly morphing fabric. The fabric itself might lead to them. New York was a big place, with a big garment district, but there can't have been much of this kind of fabric out there. Underworld scum wouldn't be so unnerved if they had ever seen anything like it before. Dan checked the seams again, memorizing them so he could look up what kind of stitch it was later. That might be a telling clue also. If he could track down the fabric, figure out which professional garment company had access to it, see which departments used which stitches, he might be able to pinpoint who had created his partner.

The weirdness of that thought wasn't lost on Dan and he almost laughed. He would have to re-adjust his whole weirdness scale after this. Another hour of waiting in the Nest passed before Dan's stomach growled. He sighed, hanging his head. It was nearly noon and he'd been down here since 4 am. He needed to sleep more than he wanted food, but what to do with the arm in the meantime? The right thing to do might be to leave it here, in plain sight, where Rorschach could come and get it. Dan didn't want him to slip in and out and be gone forever, though.

Instead of pulling the glove back onto the hand, he arranged it on the table and wrote a note that said _Still partners. Come upstairs._ He set the note in the glove's grip where it would be seen, and then carefully scooped up the arm again. He took it upstairs with him and set it on the coffee table. A new note, this one saying _Wake me up so I know you're ok._ was placed in the empty hand, not much more than a glove itself like this. Dan looked at it for a few more minutes, then collapsed on the couch with a groan, covering his eyes with the crook of his own arm. He was asleep quickly (and dreaming of the hand roaming around his house on its fingertips) and stayed that way until the sun begin to sink.

There was a sound that woke him up. He thrashed up, looking around blearily. The arm was still there. So was the note. R hadn't been here then. He tried to focus his sleepy thoughts and listen through the pulse in his ears. For a moment, there was nothing, then came a faint knock on his front door like the rap of very timid knuckles.

"Ungh," Dan said, rubbing his face for any sleep-sand or dried drool. He was starving now, and no wonder. It was past 7 o'clock. Who could be at the door? Dan raked a hand through his hair and went to open it. He ended up blinking in surprise at the strange man on his doorstep.

"Yes?" he asked, thinking he was safe from any sales pitches. No company would ever employ such a miserable looking salesman, even if they were hoping for pity sales. The stranger was slight, almost a head shorter than Dan, and made more so by his slouch. His hair was close-cropped and fiery red and he was spattered with freckles that might've been charming on someone who didn't look like his best friend had choked to death eating his Christmas puppy. On his birthday. In fact, he looked like he was trying very hard not to cry at that moment. His eyes were rimmed in red, and set in an angular, yet droopy face. They widened at the sight of Dan, who was bemused to see him blush and fidget and then mutter something while looking very hard at the welcome mat.

"Excuse me?" Dan asked. The man muttered it slightly louder, still not looking up. "All right, you're going to have to actually say something."

"Shouldn't have come like this," the man forced out. "I know. Sorry. But.. I..." He snuck a peek up at Dan, then dropped his eyes again. "I need the arm."

"What?" Dan snapped alert, suddenly fierce behind his glasses. The man seemed to shrink even more.

"Needthearm," he whispered, clutching the front of his jacket. "Do...do you still? Have it?"

Dan was frozen, but the temptation to grab the little man and shake answers out of him made his knuckles go white on the door. He couldn't, he reminded himself. If this guy knew about Rorschach, then he needed to treated as Rorschach's friend. And it would probably scare him to death.

"I do," he said carefully. "Come in." The last part was a little too intense to be a request, and he saw the redhead's throat bob with a hard gulp, but the man meekly stepped over his threshold.

"I..." He glanced at Dan quickly again, still a little too pink. "Didn't mean to see you like this..."

"Like what?" Dan kept his tone casual as he steered his guest toward the kitchen.

"Out of..." His voice trailed off to a whisper. "Costume."

"What's your name?" Dan asked next, fighting down the anxious lurch hearing that gave him. Rorschach must've told him. And if the Reigning Emperor of Secretive Paranoia trusted this guy with his secrets, then Dan probably could too. The question seemed to fluster the guy, and it was a moment before he stuttered out an almost shy "Walter."

"Sit down, Walter." Again, a little too brisk to be an invitation, but Walter sank obediantly into a chair. "I was just about to eat, and I think we need to talk."


	4. Chapter 4

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soup and sandwiches. Fast and easy. Dan set a plate in front of Walter without asking and plopped down a bowl of soup a minute later. Asking what kind of sandwich he wanted made him sputter for so long that Dan just cut his own sandwich and plunked half in front of the redhead too.

"I don't need anything," Walter said, looking panicked. "I just came for- I need the arm! I need to-"

"Fix him." Dan finished. "Right?" He took a bite of sandwich, watching Walter deflate, then nod. "Is he all right?"

"..." Walter hesitated, looking down into the soup bowl. "No," he finally said, looking dangerously close to tears again. "He- He won't... I thought, if I could get him in one piece again, he might- I don't know!"

"Is it more than the arm?" Dan asked, swallowing another large bite. "He was upset that I found out. Is he still?"

"Yes..." Walter finally picked up his spoon, but made no move to eat. "I've never seen him like this. He isn't supposed to be this way."

Dan's ears perked at that. Walter scowled, as if that was more than he meant to give away. He also seemed involuntarily glad to have someone to talk to. Maybe it was a relief to talk to someone else who knew. Keeping secrets was exhausting. And what had Rorschach been telling him about Nite Owl that made him so nervous?

"Can I ask you what he was supposed to be like?" Dan asked carefully. Walter actually met his eyes for half a minute before looking down again. "He's been my partner for years. I've wondered about him, but I always trusted him. I still do. If it's me he's upset about, he doesn't have to be." There was another long pause. Walter didn't look up this time. "Can I see him?"

"No." Walter's voice was soft, but flat. "I got that much out of him before he shut himself in." Dan nodded, disappointed, but not surprised.

"Are you the one that, well..." He didn't know how to say it that didn't sound weird. "Made him?"

"I just sewed the skin," Walter said. He had gone strangely blank. "He was always there. In the shapes. I could see him. As soon as I saw the fabric come in, I could tell that there was something in it that needed to be let out." Dan stopped eating and blinked hard. There was a weight behind those words, and he wasn't sure how well secured it was. He could feel it sway over the table, ready to drop, and crush... something. Even if it was only his chance to have one of Rorschach's friends be his, too.

"And I could tell, as soon as I saw the arm," Dan said, hoping he sounded as sincere as he felt. It was a sappy thing to say, but it was still true. "That somebody special had made it."

"No," Walter said immediately. Dan went on like he hadn't been interrupted.

"I was wondering how in the world I was going to find you, because I knew that whoever you were, you-"

"Nothing special about me." Walter stood up suddenly. "Wasting time. Where is his arm?" As forceful as those words were, they were still delivered in the voice of someone who expected to be hit for it.

"In here," Dan got up too. "Don't leave yet. I'll get the glove from downstairs." He hurried down to the basement to get the glove and the _Still partners_ note. When he got upstairs again, he was relieved to see Walter still there, tucking the arm into his jacket. He handed over the glove, and quickly jotted his phone number on the back of the note.

"You know how to find me," he said. "But let me give you my phone number. Y'know, just in case either of you need anything."

"..." Walter went red again and hesitated as he took it. "Thank you," he muttered.

"I mean it," Dan walked him to the door. "I meant everything. Just... just let me know, all right? I hate not knowing. I worry." He tried to smile at the end, to lighten the statement, make it seem less needy. Walter paused again. He looked up as if something had just occurred to him.

"Promise you won't follow me?" he asked. It was the opposite of before. The words sounded timid, but there was something sharp under them. That had occurred to Dan, but he hadn't earned Rorschach's trust by pushing his luck where his privacy was concerned. He would try to earn Walter's too.

"This time," he said. Walter nodded slowly and hurried down the street. Dan watched him go, then shut the door.


	5. Chapter 5

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I've got your arm," Walter said. He was breathless from his rush to get home. True to his word, Nite Owl didn't seem to have trailed him and he felt a pang for suspecting the hero. He knocked on the closet door and then opened it. Rorschach was curled up in the floor, holding the hole in his shoulder closed with one hand. "He took good care of it. See?" Rorschach didn't move, but at least he wasn't all deflated again. "He... gave me his phone number. Tried to make me lunch, but I was in a hurry."

Walter knelt in the closet doorway, setting the arm across Rorschach's body and digging through a sewing box for the right needle.

"Hrrr..." It was a very faint sound, heralding a very slight movement. Rorschach raised his head to watch as Walter peeled the layers of clothing back from shoulder and arm. "Was he what you thought?"

"I..." Walter went red again. "Didn't think. I mean, of course, he wasn't going to answer the door in his costume! But, I felt bad. Seeing him like that. I'm not supposed to know who he is. _You're_ his partner. Not me. Oh! And he gave me this..." Walter dug in his pocket and handed the note to Rorschach. There was a long pause before the remaining hand reached for it. "It's...it's his number, but look on the back. That part's for you." Rorschach's fingers moved like the small note was razor-sharp, turning it over slowly and carefully.

_Still partners. Come upstairs._ He held it a long moment as Walter stitched.

"You were right about him liking you," Walter said as the silence stretched on. "He was worried. He wants you back."

"Who he thought I was back." Rorschach said. Walter's face crinkled in confusion. He had always been able to interpret the inkblot patterns to tell Rorschach's moods, but the one spreading from the forehead down didn't mean anything as far as he could tell. That frightened him a little and he ducked his head to keep his own expression hidden.

"So he knows," he said, trying shrug without involving his arms. "He was more concerned about how you were than what. I mean, I could tell he was holding back. I thought he might grab me there a few times. He wanted to ask questions, wanted answers, but he didn't force it. Didn't get angry. Asked if he could see you."

"No."

"I told him that." Walter almost smiled, remembering how nervous he had been refusing the tall man anything. Rorschach had told him enough stories to know that Nite Owl could make a man who skinned prostitutes for fun scream like a bunny in a beartrap. He had no doubts that if Nite Owl had decided not to let him leave until he talked, that it wouldn't have taken long.

"What else?"

"Hm?"

"What else did you tell him?"

"Uh." Walter replayed the conversation quickly. "He asked if I had made you. He...uh... was planning on trying to find me if he couldn't find you."

"What did you say?" There was enough of an edge in Rorschach's voice that Walter faltered and stared at him.

"Just that I had sewed your skin up. Is... Was that too much? What's wrong?"

Rorschach exhaled hard, then made an inarticulate sound of frustration and flopped back down on the floor. Walter sat paralyzed by a sense of misgiving. Something was very, very wrong.

"You've never been afraid of anything," he said when he could speak again. "Never uncertain. Never like this. What really happened?"

"Told you."

"Then why is it affecting you like this? You... almost sound like...me." Walter meant it half jokingly, but the swirling face was suddenly nose to nose with him. He froze, needle halfway through a seam.

"Not an empty shell," Rorschach hissed. "Either of us." Walter opened his mouth, maybe to argue, but thought better of it and went back to sewing in silence.


	6. Chapter 6

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was three more days before Nite Owl saw Rorschach again. He was getting ready to go out in Archie when he felt a stare and looked up to see him, barely visible in the shadows of the tunnel. Nite Owl honestly didn't know whether to break into a relieved grin or yell. He had made excuses to lurk by his phone the first two days, wondering if Walter or Rorschach would call, and had finally decided to go on patrol the night before. Rorschach stood silent, hands in pockets, like a dog that wasn't sure it was welcome in the house. Nite Owl saw the hesitation and silently prayed his usual knack for turning situations awkward wouldn't ruin this.

"It's about time!" he called, letting the grin out after all. "Let's go!" He started up the ladder without looking back. _Don't be nervous. Don't be awkward. This is no different from any other time he takes off for a few days. Just act normal._ He got into his seat and begin flipping switches noisily. Finally he heard footsteps approaching and was glad the goggles hid that he squeezed his eyes shut in relief as Rorschach closed the hatch and sat down in the other chair.

"Glad you're back," he said as they started off and it was too late for Rorschach to change his mind and disappear. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." The hat was pulled low so only the bottom part of his mask was showing, but his head tilted slightly. They were watching each other carefully. Rorschach was on high alert for any too-curious looks or questions. Nite Owl was just trying to tell if Rorschach was actually breathing. Sure enough, there was a steady rise and fall in his chest and Nite Owl had to focus on the instruments to keep an amazed grin off his face. Ok, so it didn't make any logical sense for a hand-sewn man with no lungs to breathe, but it was cool. Nite Owl had always been curious about Rorschach's real name and face, and now that he knew he didn't have either, he still had something to be curious about. No reason to lose patience yet. Maybe eventually Rorschach (or hey! Maybe Walter) would tell him the whole story.

"What?" Rorschach said, just barely a snap, and Nite Owl knew he hadn't looked away fast enough.

"I'm just impressed," he said honestly. "I was going to ask about your arm, but then I saw your coat. You can barely see the stitches in it. It's almost like you were never-" He almost said hurt, then changed his mind. "-Slashed. Walter really knows what he's doing, doesn't he? He did a great job." He heard himself babbling a little and reined it in.

"Hrrm," Rorschach said, agreeing, "That's something you two have in common."

"Oh yeah?"

"Both makers. Both create things."

Nite Owl couldn't help but be flattered at the comparison. After all, nothing he made had come to life on its own, but wouldn't it have been cool if it had? And it was kind of nice to be in the same category with someone Rorschach thought highly of. Nite Owl was even the teensiest bit jealous. Rorschach had someone to go to besides him, which was admittedly more of a relief than an annoyance. He had someone to patch him up and keep him company and keep him sane. All this time he had been worried about his partner being cold or hurt or hungry and- wait...

"Can I ask you a, um, personal question?" he said before he could lose nerve. New tension snapped taut in Rorschach's frame.

"What?" he asked, and his growl was back full force.

"What do you do with all the sugar cubes? I mean, not that it matters. You can have as many as you want, build scale models of the Pyramids, for all I care. I'm just... curious... I guess..." He risked a sideways look glance and shrugged as casually as he was able. "Just curious.

"Buy those especially for me." Rorschach said after a moment. "Don't you?"

"You seemed to like them."

"....." Rorschach made a new strange sound and looked at his hands, loose in his lap. "Give them to Walter. Needs energy more than I do."

"Makes sense," Nite Owl agreed. Rorschach was looking at him as if expecting him to be insulted. Over sugar cubes. _Yeesh. I thought I was the one that didn't know_ him_... Just sugar cubes, for crying out loud. Not like they're precious or rare..._ Unless maybe they were to Walter. He sure hadn't looked as if his life had had a lot of sweetness. The thought of the highlight of your day being secondhand sugar cubes brought home in what had to be horrifying pockets was heart-tugging. Nite Owl wondered briefly what Walter was like happy, remembering how close to despair the man had seemed on his doorstep. Maybe only Rorschach knew.

"I only got to talk to him for a minute or two," Nite Owl said. "But I liked him." Rorschach made another sound, this one more his usual grunt. "We did have a common anxiety after all." Nite Owl tried to lighten things with a smile and feigned elbow nudge. It didn't connect. Nite Owl wasn't pushing his luck too far. Rorschach looked at him for a moment, then back out the window, and he decided to let it go for now.

The sword was still missing from the museum, so they decided to make the rounds and see what they could find out. Rorschach expressed disappointment that Nite Owl had let the thieves get away with the sword. Nite Owl pointed out that he had been well and truly distracted at that point. They went back to the lot behind the museum where they had fought the thieves and started investigating from there. By then, there wasn't much left, but they did find some scraps of black material and a few subway tokens.

"You know the subway tunnels better than I do," Nite Owl said. "Is it a feasible hideout for a bunch of wannabe ninjas?"

"Hundreds of homeless live down there," Rorschach turned a token over in his palm. "Don't see why not."

"That many?" Nite Owl was checking a blood spatter and trying not to imagine the mess that would've been here if Rorschach had been human. It would've been a bloodbath, all over the inside of Archie too, and his costume as he tried to hold the wound shut long enough to get to help. He was glad for anything to pull his mind from that image. "Why?"

"Average year round temperature. No outside interference. Most don't last long. Humans aren't meant to live in holes." He pocketed the token and rolled his shoulders, maybe testing his new stitches. "Not like alligators."

"You don't mean the urban legend about them in the sewers," Nite Owl said, fairly sure he was kidding.

"Not the first time I've had to be sewn up," Rorschach said, motioning at his shoulder. He didn't sound like he was kidding. "More things in heaven and earth, as they say." He turned away before Nite Owl could argue. "See what security knows about the trap they fell into. Might be some clue there."

***

Inside the museum, they found some of the day shift guards trying to stay awake with coffee and churros. Almost the entire night shift was either dead or in the hospital with electricity burns, organ failure, and nerve damage. Only three out of fifteen hadn't been trapped and they were being questioned by police.

"Inside job," Rorschach muttered. The guard nodded a little sheepishly.

"Looks that way," he said. "They're saying it would've taken to long to set up all the wires on the floor and somebody would've noticed unless they had inside help."

"What was so special about this sword?" Nite Owl asked.

"Beats me," the guard sighed, but his partner perked up a little.

"It's a relic," she said. "I pulled that hall during the last big field trip. Heard the guide talk about it four times that day. It was given as a tribute gift to some opium drug lord way back when. Too long to really be a practical weapon, y'know, but a symbolic one. Something like 'may your enemies always be in reach of your blade'. Then they were cleaned out by a new power and all their stuff got stockpiled, and the latest heir to it all donated a bunch of the stuff that wasn't actually valuable to different museums. We got the sword and a tapestry."

"You remembered all that?" her partner teased.

"I pay attention. What snack is D7 in the vending machine?" she asked back.

"M&Ms," he answered immediately, then grimaced. "Ok. Got me."

Their effortless camaraderie was endearing to Nite Owl, but he felt Rorschach shift with impatience and decided to go before anyone's fingers were threatened. He thanked them and shooed Rorschach back towards Archie.  
"Drugs and violence don't change, do they?" he asked once they were in. "Any thoughts?"

"Maybe new enemies in reach of an old blade," Rorschach said.


	7. Chapter 7

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Seen some evidence of new drug ring in city recently. Nothing concrete." Rorschach's voice lost some of its growl echoing in the subway maintenance tunnel. He lead the way with his flashlight. He was speaking softer than usual, but hadn't explained why, so Nite Owl was tense for anything moving in the dark. "But underworld commotion in Chinatown may connect new drugs to the old sword."

The sound of metal creaking, like a gate opening, made them both stop. Rorschach turned the flashlight off, and Nite Owl adjusted his goggles to full night vision. A figure stepped out into the tunnel ahead of them, too ragged to be a ninja.

"Oh," it said, looking straight at them, despite the darkness. "You again."

"Why are you still here?" Rorschach growled, but he had relaxed his combat posture slightly. The stranger strolled closer. He looked like a scarecrow, tall and thin with a battered coat fluttering around him. There seemed to be something strange about his eyes, like one was darker than the other, but it was hard to tell through night vision. No goggles were needed to detect the smell though. Anyone who had ever complained about Rorschach would've come running back to bury their nose in his trench coat after smelling this guy.

"Unfinished business, oreo," the stranger said. "Glad to see you made a friend. Lone wolves are lonely wolves." He nodded towards Nite Owl who didn't manage to not look shocked at hearing Rorschach spoken to that way. Rorschach seemed to have trouble dealing with it, too. His fists opened and clenched, but the stranger stepped just out of reach and smiled. Clearly, he had been punched before.

"Looking for people," Rorschach said finally. "Seen anyone down here that shouldn't be?"

"Depends on what you mean by people," the stranger said.

"Ninjas," Nite Owl added, just to make it a touch more surreal.

"Oh, them. Yeah, they come hustlin' through all freaked out by somethin'. Found 'em later. All dead. Poisoned by the smell of it."

"Where?" Nite Owl asked. The stranger gestured vaguely at the wall to his right, and then started walking away.

"Down by the water plant's pipe maintenance access," he called over his shoulder. "That place is smellin' kinda weird these days, too. Might not want to drink from the tap til that blows over."

"Hrrm. Never do."

The answer to that was a soft chuckle, then whoever this guy was ducked back into one of the branching tunnels and was gone.

"Who?" Nite Owl had to ask. Rorschach turned his flashlight back on and started walking again as if hadn't happened.

"Name unknown. Homeless. Possibly an asylum cast-off. Clearly insane, but observant."

"Insane how?"

"You heard. Claims to smell things. Says monsters disguise themselves as humans to torment the earth. Hnh. Might be right about that one."

Nite Owl bit back something snide about how he was surprised the guy could smell anything with a reek like that. _Can't blame a homeless man living in a subway tunnel for lack of hygiene_, he told himself. Not without offending present company anyway. Rorschach had stopped next to some pipes and scanned them with the flashlight until he found the water plant symbol. He nodded and gestured for Nite Owl to hurry as they followed the pipes back towards the water plant.

It was hard to tell the passage of time underground, and Nite Owl was beginning to wonder if the sun had come up yet. Maybe the reason Rorschach stayed gone so long on his fact-finding missions was that in places like this, it was impossible to tell if you been down here an hour or all day. It did feel like they had been walking for ages. Maybe it was his armor weighing him down. Maybe it was how wet and slippery everything was the farther they went down these tunnels. Rorschach didn't complain though, so neither did he.

Finally, they got to a place with stairs and a sealed door. There was about an inch of water on the ground and there in the puddles, were the bodies. The one laying face up had bulging eyes and a swollen purple tongue clenched between his teeth. When Nite Owl kicked over the other, it was the same. The veins stood out stark and bright under their dead skin. Rorschach made a thoughtful sound, looking the scene over. Nite Owl noticed some foam in the corners of one of the mouths.

"Could be poison, I guess," he admitted. Rorschach moved the flashlight around to take in the rest of the room and settled it on the door at the top of the small metal stairs. He stepped out of the water onto the bottom step. There was a pop of electricity and Nite Owl saw him jerk, actually saw the black spots bubble underneath the white fabric. He convulsed again, and Nite Owl was already running as the smell of something burning reached him. He ripped off his cape and flung it around Rorschach, using it to yank him back. The cape material wasn't much of a conductor, but in the damp, Nite Owl still took a jolt that felt like a full-body bee sting. He yelped, staggering, and Rorschach fell backwards, landing flat and twitching. The ink was still sizzling between its layers and Nite Owl dropped to his knees beside him.

"Rorschach??" he heard a hysterical edge to his voice from his own pain, and was halfway wondering how you revived someone with no heart, lungs, or brain.

"Dnnt," Rorschach said. "Dnt touch. Am fine. Jst... startled." He coughed and avoided Dan's hands. "Might still have some current in me. Don't touch."

"Oh my God!" Dan was tempted to hug him, current be damned. "You have got to stop scaring me like this every time we go out. Be more careful!" It was a silly thing to say and he knew it. Rorschach shuddered a little, then sat up.

"Better me than you," he said. "No heart to stop. If you had gone up first, you might've died. _You_ be more careful." He still smelled scorched, and his ink patterns were skittering in lacy configurations that weren't solid enough to be blots.

"All right," Nite Owl said. "We have to report that before someone does get killed. Should get you home and check for any damage. We're both wet and rattled. We can start fresh tomorrow now that we know where to look." Rorschach obviously wanted to keep going, but grudgingly agreed once Dan pointed out that his shoes were smoking. They made their way out, informed the police about the bodies and the booby trapped stairs, and said goodnight in Archie's tunnel. Dan was relieved to see him walking steadily and that most of his blots had reconnected. For himself, there was only a soreness in his palms from the shock through his gloves. _Might be time to better insulate them_, he thought. _The boots too. _

He could go shop for insulation tomorrow. In the meantime, shower and sleep.

_(Author Geekery: Homeless guy is a Bone Gnawer OC from a Werewolf RPG I couldn't resist adding. Because if Rorschach isn't a Bone Gnawer, he's at least Kinfolk. Which would explain his family life pretty well, actually... And Dan's totally a Glasswalker and ok, I will stop now.)_


	8. Chapter 8

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He had only slept for a little while before he was grabbed and shaken. Through his grogginess, he heard a voice he could barely recognize. He should know it, his sleepy brain registered, but there was something wrong with it.

"Daniel! Daniel, help! Need help! Wake up!" Rorschach was dragging him out of bed. He sounded frantic. That's what was wrong.

"What?" Dan was groping for his glasses.

"He's sick! Hurt! Needs help!" Rorschach was now forcing him out the door to the hall. "Can't tell what's wrong. Something's wrong!"

"What? Who?" His head cleared enough to let him hold the bannister and walk without being pushed. Rorschach ran the rest of the way down.

"Walter!" Rorschach ran to to the couch where the redhead lay wrapped in his trench coat. "Like this when I got home! Couldn't help, don't know how! Brought him here..."

"Oh God," Dan hurried over. Walter was pale and his eyes were glazed. His breath was choking painfully. Dan lifted his chin, feeling the erratic pulse. "Is he allergic to anything?" he asked, sliding a thumb past his lips to pry his jaw open. "God, yes, his tongue's swelling. Probably his throat too, if he's having trouble breathing."

"Not allergic..." Rorschach was hovering. "Something really in the water, you think?"

"No..." Dan saw the vein in Walter's temple standing out under his freckles and remembered the bodies in the tunnel. "Poisoned," he gasped, light dawning. "Holy shit. It's the same stuff that killed those two. Look at him! I'm calling an ambulance."

"But..." He had never seen Rorschach so frightened. He was willing to bet no one had. He kept turning from Walter to Dan, almost fluttering. Dan ran to his phone and terrified a bored sounding 911 operator into action. He barked his address into the phone, begging them to hurry. Rorschach waited as he was given quick instructions, heard him give frantic OKs to everything and then hang up. "...How?? No one knew! Not even-" He faltered, then went on with anger. "Not even you! Made sure no one ever followed, never let anyone know where I- we-"

"The sword," Dan said, grimly. He rolled Walter onto his left side as the dispatcher had told him to. "The sword was poisoned. It killed those poor idiots who stole it when they touched it, and when Walter touched where you had been cut with it, he got it on his hands. You didn't absorb it, but he did."

Rorschach had gone utterly still. "No," he said.

"I said it before, didn't I?" Dan's voice was harsh with anger and worry. "Drugs and gangs haven't changed since ancient times. They made a fake truce! Sent a gift that would kill whoever touched it. Moved in and wiped them out when they were weakened. It was wrapped, remember? No one at the museum would've touched it directly. They had no way of knowing."

"..." Rorschach swayed slightly. "...my fault..." he whispered.

"Don't start that," Dan was tilting Walter's head back to keep his air passage clear as possible. "I need you to help me here."

"Should've been more careful. Shouldn't have been hurt. No injury, no poison carried home. Innocent suffer. Always. This time it's my fault. My fault, Daniel." Rorschach was clutching at his scarf, clawing at his mask like it wasn't enough to hide him from this.

"Stop it!" Dan snapped. "We have to keep him breathing until the ambulance gets here! Help me! Talk to him. Hearing your voice may help."

"No," Rorschach nearly sobbed. "You're his hero. Always have been. Made me to be more like you. I did this to him. You have to save him."

"What?? No. Rorschach..."

"Gave me all his strength and kept none for himself and now look! Look at him, Daniel! Look!"

"Pull. Yourself. Together." It was his Nite Owl voice and his partner froze. "Never thought I'd have to say that to _you_. Listen. I hear sirens. How do we do this? Do you want to wait here and I'll call you from the hospital so we can sneak you in? Or can you... flatten out or something? I could maybe- I don't know! Put you in a backpack?"

Rorschach didn't move and Dan was about to ask again when the sirens pulled up outside. When Rorschach spoke again, he was back in control, voice a rasp, and his trembling hands crushed into fists.

"You take him. Take care of him. I'll find you later."


	9. Chapter 9

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan waited in the hospital. It was stark white and dull green, all sharp angles. Even the smell was sharp and chemical. There had been some complications over him not knowing Walter's last name. He had only halfway lied, saying Walter was a friend of a friend and they had been at a party when he had gotten sick.

"Must've been some party," muttered the nurse in charge. At Dan's insistence that Walter had been poisoned, they had obligingly pulled on gloves and masks and sent him to wash up.

"Just in case," the nurse said. "Wash off anything that came in contact with him."

A young man, no less stark and sharp-angled than everything else in the place, had come out later to talk to him. His scrubs were the same bland green as the trim on the walls. He tried to explain that they were doing massive blood transfusions and had said something about toxicology tests and blood dioxin levels. Dan had nodded and said "OK" over and over, and then asked the inevitable question. "Is he going to be OK?"

The guy gave him a look that clearly said 'Weren't you _listening_??' What he said out loud was "Too early to say." He left Dan on his bench to lean his head back against the wall. They had told him he could go home and they would call him. He had refused. He didn't want Walter waking up alone in the hospital. He didn't want to explain to Rorschach that he had left. His mind kept replaying what Rorschach had said.

_Made me to be more like you._

What did that even mean? He had established that Walter had made Rorschach's physical shape out of some high-tech fabric that had _spoken_ to him, _compelled_ him somehow. He had been toying with theories as to what Rorschach was that had come to inhabit that shape. That statement though, sputtered out in guilt and horror, made him wonder. He had been too frantic at the time to give it much thought, too worried at Walter's state, too bewildered at Rorschach's breakdown.

_Gave me all his strength and kept none for himself_

It almost sounded like… Walter hadn't just made the skin... but had created Rorschach as well. Like some bizarre imaginary friend. It struck him as insane as soon as he thought it. What kind of kid created a bone-breaking vengeance hound with such strict moral and political views for a secret friend? Wouldn't something with wings that magically produced ice cream be more fun? Though Rorschach did deliver sugar cubes…

Unless their childhood had been so miserable that they needed an unflinching protector. And maybe Walter hadn't been a child. He had a least been working at a job when the fabric came into his hands. Maybe he had been a grown man, so beaten down and frustrated on the outside that the only way all of that pain and rage and need for retribution could come out was if it had another body to go to. Nothing childish or bright-colored. He would've been old enough to know better by then.

"God," Dan said out loud, still looking at the ceiling. A nurse walking by with an armload of clipboards gave him a tight-lipped sympathy smile. She probably saw people pray on these benches all the time. Dan couldn't help but wish Rorschach was there. He would have someone to ask about all the things flitting through his head. Rorschach would have someone to try to comfort him. He had been so distraught. It was surreal to even remember Rorschach going to pieces like that. And then a new thought hit.

_What happened to imaginary friends when their creators died? _


	10. Chapter 10

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was 10 am before they had moved Walter to a room and told Dan he could go see him.

"Don't try to wake him up," they warned. "Don't touch anything. Don't touch him. And wear this." He had been handed a face mask and some gloves and he had done as well as he could on no sleep not to grumble that he had better ones at home. He had gone in and found Walter, practically transparent except for the bright hair, poked full of needles and tubes, and unconscious. You couldn't call whatever that was sleep.

Sleep would be nice, Dan thought, but he pulled a chair over by the bed and settled into it. There wasn't a file or chart anywhere for him to look at, and he didn't know any of the medical words on the IV bags. There was a TV mounted on the wall, but he didn't see the remote anywhere and honestly didn't feel like listening to whatever was on during the day.

"You gave us a scare, man," he said, tempted to ruffle the red curls despite all the dire warnings he had been given. "Can you hear me at all? You're pumped full of new blood, but don't tell your roommate. If he's suspicious of tap water, he shouldn't even think about donated blood, right?"

Walter didn't move or speak and Dan hadn't really expected a response. He considered closing the blinds but thought maybe the sunlight pouring in would do Walter some good, maybe even wake him up sooner.  
The chair was hard, squeaky, and uncomfortable, but it was only another twenty minutes until he had finally dozed off.

***

"Daniel."

"Mrgh."

"Daniel…"

"Hnnh?"

"**Daniel**!"

Dan's eyes opened to see Rorschach nose to nose with him. Surprise slammed him back in the chair and Rorschach had to dodge a spastic leg kick. _I didn't scream this time_, he thought weakly. _At least there's that_.

"Have you seen the news?" Rorschach growled.

"N-no," Daniel rubbed his eyes and stood up with a creak. "I've been here all day. What time is it?"

Rorschach didn't answer. He was rummaging in the single drawer on the night stand. Dan looked blearily out the window. The sun was still high. He'd probably only been asleep for an hour or two. A frustrated sound from Rorschach made him turn to see the drawer slammed shut. Rorschach had to stand on tiptoe to turn the TV on, but he managed. Dan's sleepy brain finally decided that it was the remote he'd been looking for. Channels were flipped through quickly and then the TV was turned off with a savage jerk.

"Just tell me," Dan sighed. He almost sat down on the edge of Walter's bed, but caught himself and leaned on the night stand instead. Rorschach in daylight was a strange experience. The old stains and careful repairs on his clothes were more obvious. It didn't expose any weakness though. He exhaled hard and then went to grip the rail on Walter's bed. In the bright light, Dan could see the worn places over the knuckles of his gloves.

"Assassination," Rorschach said, looking down at his friend. "Foreign dignitary." His head whipped to glare meaningfully at Dan. "Run through by a stolen sword."

"Oh no," Dan stood up again. "Did you - Do they know not to touch it??"

"Got there too late, but the team were all wearing gloves. Left them a note to warn them."

"OK…" Dan tried to calm down again. He felt a little queasy from lack of sleep. Rorschach turned back to the bed.

"They don't know for sure yet," Dan said. "The thing they keep mentioning is organ failure, but so far his vital signs all seem steady. "

"Said anything?" Rorschach's voice had lowered to what passed for a whisper.

"No. I did fall asleep there for awhile though, but he hasn't moved since they let me in."

"Good of you to stay with him." There was emotion there that Dan was not rested enough to face. He changed the subject.

"This dignitary that died. Any connection to the sword's history? Any kin to either side of that opium gang war the guards were telling us about?"

"Unknown. Know you're tired, Daniel, but would rather have you at my back for this." He slid a sugar cube into Walter's hand, then quickly hopped on the windowsill. "Meet me back at the Nest."

Dan didn't feel right leaving Walter alone in the hospital and wished he had something to leave too, just to let Walter know he had been there. Maybe it was a silly impulse, after all, it might be days before Walter woke up at all, but just in case he did, Dan found an empty envelope in the nightstand drawer, folded it in half, drew a quick owl with a crescent moon on it, and left it sitting upright.

He was able to sleep a little in the taxi. There was heavy traffic that close to the noon rush and for the first time, he was grateful for it, getting to doze nearly half an hour before he was dropped off at his door. He could halfway remember a dream about what it would feel like to actually wear Rorschach's skin-suit that was just tactile enough to be creepy. Hoping the driver didn't notice, he paid him, and went inside.

He made a mug of coffee for himself and one for Rorschach, and headed downstairs. There was no sign of his partner yet, which surprised him. He sat down to wait and was halfway through his own mug of coffee before he remembered that Rorschach wouldn't drink the other one. Oh well. He drank that one too, feeling the caffeine begin to burn its way through the sleepy fog.

He started to get into his costume and was wishing he had remembered to get some insulation for the boots and gloves when Rorschach finally appeared.

"Sword back at museum " he said by way of greeting. "Seems undamaged, except for the blood. Some commotion over losing the silk covering. Apparently valuable. Assessing damage in flooded room. Could take awhile."

"Uh-huh. Especially with a skeleton crew of security doing double shifts." Dan was rooting through some of his old supplies. He made a victorious sound as he pulled out some of the old electrical gloves he had used while wiring up the Nest. They were too thick to wear under his gauntlets, but he tucked them into his belt. "Just in case," he said to Rorschach's puzzled head tilt.

It only took a little while to get back to the subway tunnels and from there to the booby-trapped stairway. The bodies had been cleaned up, and there was some caution tape on the stairs. Rorschach looked at it and then stepped up onto it before Dan could stop him. He seemed amused at the cut-off yelp and looked at Dan over his shoulder.

"Told you before. No heart to stop."

"Don't give me that," Dan snapped, annoyed at being startled. "You are alive. I want you to stay that way."

"_**You**_ stay that way." Rorschach replied, the grade school retort rendered serious by his growl. "Let me go first."

Dan was tempted to take offense at that and might've argued on about who was protecting who, but Rorschach quickly picked the lock and opened the door. Behind it, there was only a large maintenance shed. There were rows of fuse boxes and cables and three other doors. One had the water plant logo on it and was locked up solid. The other was a fairly bare supply closet, unlocked and unremarkable. The third was locked from the outside with a padlock. Rorschach pointed out the sawdust on the floor.

"Recent," he said. "Unprofessional." Instead of going to the trouble to pick it, he slid the pick under the hasp and levered it up enough to get his fingers under the edge. After that, it took no time at all to pull the whole thing off. A sharp kick sent the door crashing inward and both men stepped inside. It looked like it had been some sort of utility closet, but someone had turned it into a little nest of their own. There were rolls of wire and a toolbox, a newer version of the gloves Dan had, and piles of newspapers and xeroxs.

A prominent one was an article about the museum robbery, and Dan glanced over it before a familiar face jumped out at him. He looked at it again, finally picking it up to squint closer. It was the same guard they had talked to, the one who knew the snack machine better than the exhibits. He was listed as one of the dead after the robbery, three days before they had talked to him.

"Rorschach…" he said, holding the picture up and tapping it with a finger. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

His partner's face bunched up over the nose in what was probably a squint. Were there really eyes in there or was it just an imitated habit? As soon as he realized what he was looking at, Rorschach made a disgusted sound.

"Inside job after all," he snarled. "Set up trap on a different shift, arranged for someone else to steal sword, and faked own death. Things so chaotic there now, who would notice? But why go to all that trouble for a sword he was just going to leave stuck through some foreigner?

"Was the name Wen Than by any chance?" Dan asked, peering closer at another piece of paper. Rorschach stopped, then made an affirmative noise. "Because according to this, that's the name of the man who donated the sword in the first place."

They looked at each other in silence, both minds humming with implications and possibilities.

"Don't believe Mr. M&M is connected with ancient Asian drug lords," Rorschach finally said. "No reason to kill Than unless there was an loose end to tie up. "

"But what?" Dan cast around the tiny room again. "His partner said that the sword wasn't actually valuable."

"Partner in crime as well?" Rorschach shrugged like it was typical. "Or stealing sword a cover for the theft of something else that _was_… Find her. See what she knows about rest of display. Take this." He handed over the newspaper article. "Ask her how long she's worked with a dead man."

"What will you be doing?" Dan asked, taking the paper. Rorschach made a sound that translated roughly into a smirk and backed up against the far wall. He seemed to flatten out, shrinking into a shadow a man shouldn't have been able to hide in.

"Wait here. For one of you to come back."


	11. Chapter 11

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The museum was locked up tight, but Nite Owl made his way through the first few doors without trouble. From there, he could see the first security station and knocked loudly on the glass in the window. Sure enough, the same female guard they had spoken to before looked around suspiciously and then gaped when she caught sight of him. You never could tell how people would react to you in costume. She had seemed willing to help last time though. Unless Rorschach was right about her being in on the heist.

After a moment of startled hesitation though, she came hurrying over, fumbling for the keys on her belt. She still had dark circles under her eyes, apparently not used to the night shift yet. She was also blushing slightly and had a nervous little smile. Oh good. Maybe she'd be happy to turn informant for a hero after all. Still, a lot of people seemed to be blushing around him lately. Maybe it was the new aftershave.

Her name tag said Kelly and he was prepared to pretend that he had remembered that from last time when she put the key in. He heard the click of the tumblers and had put on his best hero smile when a faint pop also came from the lock and her answering smile stiffened. Her whole body convulsed hard and then continued in frozen spasms. It had only taken a second while his mind ran straight to seizure and then realized he was seeing electrocution instead.

He screamed out a curse and ripped one of the gloves out of his belt. He crammed his hand in it like an oven mitt and grappled with the door. She had managed to unlock it so he was able to yank it open, pulling it out of her hand. She collapsed to the floor, still jerking.

"Kelly!" he screamed, kneeling beside her. Her hand was blistered and smoking. She made a gurgling sound and went still even while he pulled the gloves off to feel for a pulse. There wasn't one. He looked back at the lock and saw the ends of wires embedded in the door frame. Another trap, tripped when the tumblers were moved. Loose ends, Rorschach had said. Screaming for any of the other guards to help, he left her to run for the phone at her station.

***

Kelly Rostey was pronounced dead at the scene. After much confused questioning, Nite Owl was able to determine that the man she had been partnered with had called in sick that night and that they had only been working together since the break-in. His name in the paper was Shawn 'Buck' Buckland. His name on the roster with Kelly's was T.J. Walsh.

It took a trip to the police department and the city morgue to establish that the man in the newspaper picture was not the man with his ID in the body bag. The museum's HR director had to be brought in to confirm that the body belonged to Walsh and not Buckland, even though it was Buckland's ID clipped to his pocket.

"Tell me about Buck," Nite Owl said, cornering the baffled man in the morgue's lobby.

"Been with us for a few months," was the answer. "His last job was, God, an electrical engineer for Public Transportation. Why would he do this?? He got along with everyone on his shift. "

"Is everything else in that room accounted for?"

"I'm not sure," he seemed thrown off by that question. "I don't go out into the exhibits much. There was a big opening in that hall not long ago. Before all the field trips. I know things were broken…"

"Who can I talk to about that?" Nite Owl almost sighed, but kept his hero voice in place. That meant another trip back to the museum. He was anxious to check on Rorschach again.

"Is it that important?" HR man actually looked put out, and Nite Owl was tempted to pick him up by the collar.

"It's possible the theft of the sword was a cover for another theft," he explained, as calmly as he could. "Since it was abandoned so quickly."

"Well, you're the detective," the man shrugged. "Check with the curators."

***

Another trip across town had him in a repair lab talking to a kid that reminded Nite Owl a little too much of himself as a teenager. Only dorkier. He hoped.

"I've been working on getting some of the pottery back together," the kid said with more enthusiasm than should've been allowed for a broken bowl. "They aren't even letting me touch the terra cotta bust until they're sure they have all the pieces. So far, the only thing unaccounted for is a Padmasambhava jar."

Dan must've looked as blank as he felt because the kid added. "A jar shaped like a phurba."

"And that is?"

"A kīla. A three-sided knife? Like a religious dagger. From Tibet."

"A jar shaped like a knife? Ok. Was it valuable?"

"This one was. Made of jade and bronze and Burmese glass. From the 5th century. Supposed to have held the Cintamani at some point or another which makes it kinda like a holy grail of Tibetan Buddhism. Well, not really, but you get the idea."

Dan didn't. This was making less and less sense, but the goggles hid most of his skeptical expression.

"Ok," he said again. "Who would want such a thing? Who would steal it or buy it from someone who had?"

"There's been a few requests to have it returned to Tibet by different groups," the kid shrugged. "Nothing threatening though. And a serious collector would want it just because it's so old and intact. So I don't know. But so far, it is the only thing I know of that hasn't been found. That's not much help, is it?" he added when Nite Owl was silent for a moment.

"It's more than what I had," Dan said, clapping him on the shoulder, and raising a small cloud of dust. "Thanks for your time."

"Oh sure. Good luck, man."

Nite Owl left, going over every thing he had just been told so he could relate it to Rorschach. He wasn't sure what a Cintamani was, but he could stop by the house and look it up on the computer. It was on the way back to the water plant's maintenance access anyway.

As soon as he got into his house though, he was distracted by the flashing light on his answering machine. The only person that ever called him was Hollis, so he hit the button. He heard nothing but faint background noise for nearly 10 seconds and was about to hit delete when a nervous exhale played.

"I…" a soft voice said, "…They…" Then there was another exhale, this one frustrated, and the phone slammed down. A goofily elated grin spread across his face. Walter was awake.


	12. Chapter 12

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan changed back to street clothes in Archie on the way to the hospital, landed on the roof, and went to the lower halls through the fire stairs. Walter was sitting up now, hunched over like a cartoon vulture, red head and all, and holding out his IV-ed arm as if he would rather it not be attached to him with those things attached to it. In his other hand, he turned the sugar cube like a luck charm. He looked up with an apathetic stare that lost all apathy as soon as he recognized Dan.

"Got your message. How are you feeling?" Dan asked, noticing that his sketch was set on Walter's knee now. Walter eyes fell again. He started to speak twice before stopping and finally muttered out "Awful."

"You gave us a scare," Dan said, stepping closer. "The other two people who got a dose of the same stuff died."

"…Doctor didn't tell me that."

"I talked to them on the way in," Dan said, not wanting him to dwell on it. "I asked if you could leave." Hope lit in Walter's face only to be smothered quickly by his usual expressionless mask. Dan hated to disappoint him. "They want to keep you for 24 more hours, on dialysis. Just to be sure your kidneys don't konk out."

"Can't I just… take all this home with me?" Walter gestured at the Ivs and monitors. "I won't pull them out if they let me go home."

"I wouldn't leave you here a minute longer than you had to be," Dan could hear himself and was a little embarrassed. He barely knew this guy and had still gone all mother hen on him. Judging by the sideways glance, Walter thought it was weird too. "I mean, if anything does go wrong, it's better to be here, right?"

Walter grumbled something, turning the owl drawing over in his hands.

"They told me," he said suddenly. "That you agreed to pay for everything."

"Yeah," Dan said, then grinned. "What, did you tell them to let you go since you couldn't pay?" Walter made an affirmative sound that reminded him a lot of Rorschach. "One more day. Then, if everything checks out, you can go home."

"What if it _doesn't_ check out?"

"If that happens, you're not going to want to leave anyway." Dan said, grin fading. "That stuff was nasty." Walter glanced at him again, serious, but not scowling.

"You didn't get any on you, did you?" he asked.

"I was wearing gloves when I touched the slash," Dan said. "And afterwards, I didn't handle the arm much. I took his glove off, you know, just to see… "

Walter nodded as if he had expected as much. He had relaxed a little bit, tilting his head towards Dan instead of staring straight at his own knees.

"Do you know where he is right now?" he asked, half-nodding to the sugar cube.

"I do. He's waiting for the bad guy to return to his lair. I went to get some information from the museum and stopped at home when I saw your message. He'll want to come see you too as soon as I tell him."

"He'll finish the job first," Walter said, almost proudly. "Then maybe."

"Before," Dan said, hoping he wasn't stepping into dangerous water. "Back at my house. You said you could see him in the shapes in the fabric." Walter nodded, going blank again, except for his eyes. Dan focused on those. "You left before I could ask what had been eating at me… Did he pick the shape you made, or did you make it and he… filled it… I guess?"

"I don't know," Walter said. Direct eye contact made him blush and the background beeps from his heart rate monitor sped up. He licked his lips nervously, but didn't look away this time. "I remember thinking how beautiful it was, and hoping I would get to touch it, maybe work with it a little. There wasn't much, just a few yards, enough to make a dress for a customer. She died though, in a bad way, before we could get her measurements, so the roll was put in the back. I was working late, last one there. Didn't want to go home. Nothing there. Wanted to stay busy. Didn't want to think about the girl or the man who- I- I couldn't stand it, so I stayed at work. I wasn't careful, caught my finger on the machine, and had to stop to clean it up."

He held up a hand and Dan saw a faint scar on his fingertip, a perfect row of three punctures, just the right size for an industrial needle. That had to have hurt. Dan winced, imagining the jerk of pain, the splash of blood, Walter putting the finger in his mouth, feeling the three holes against his tongue. The scars probably showed on his fingerprints.

"Without the machine going, I could hear other things," Walter went on. "I looked up and saw him looking back at me from the fabric. Like a mirror reflection, only of someone better. I couldn't stand to go out and face the world. He couldn't stand to not do something. So I let him out. Gave him form."  
Walter blinked and seemed to realize how much he had said and how close he had been leaning. He pulled back, looking away again.

"He's probably waiting for you," he said. "You should go."


	13. Chapter 13

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan looked carefully at the man in the hospital bed. He had been curious about Rorschach for as long as he had known him, what he looked like, where he went, what his life on the other side of the mask was like. It occurred to him that Walter was as close to that as he was ever going to get. He was reluctant to leave again without some gesture. He almost wanted to promise Walter a ride in Archie when he was well enough, and had to remind himself that he was not dealing with a child here.

Still, the impulse to touch him somehow, on the arm or shoulder or head, reared up and Dan lingered longer than he should have before he managed an awkward promise to be back as soon as he could. On his way out, he rolled his eyes at himself. The last time he'd shifted from foot to foot and struggled for words like that he'd been 15 and trying to decide if Katherine Maigny was going to let him kiss her after something resembling a date. Maybe hanging around with Rorschach for so long had finally eroded away his social skills.

Still, it was a strange situation. He had known (but not really) Rorschach for years and now, he felt like he had known (but not really) Walter for a long time too. And Dan wanted to be nice. Walter was a fan, if the rest of Rorschach's despairing had been true. Dan could remember what that was like. Only instead of creating a separate entity to emulate a hero, he had become one himself.

He hurried back to the roof and ducked inside Archie. He wished there was a way to tell Rorschach he was coming and fill him in about Walter. Maybe it was time to finally make them some sort of communication devices. Rorschach might resist change, but it would come in handy and maybe missing a chance to visit Walter would convince him to try it. It would be nice if he could set up a homing device so that Rorschach would be easier to find, but he knew that would really be a deal breaker. It would come in handy now, though, he thought, wrestling back into costume. Just hit a "Seek" button and let Archie go straight to him.

As it was, he flew as close to an entry way as he could find a decent landing place, adjusted his goggles, and started underground. As unpleasant as it had been before, it was doubly so now that he was alone. A few times, he thought he heard voices. He had seen enough late night movies to let his imagination send visions of hungry-eyed cannibals. More likely, he knew it was hungry-eyed homeless people, trying to avoid gangs or police or social services.

As he got closer to the water plant, he did notice a change in the smell. It was chemical but not chlorine or, he had to smile a little, fluoride. Maybe they were cleaning the pipes somewhere. He made his way back to the stairs and the door without incident, but as soon as he stepped into the little maintenance access, he saw that the door had new locks and there was something fastened onto the doorknob.

Another time communicators would come in handy, he thought, looking at it.

"Rorschach?" he called, just to be safe.

"Don't touch door," came the immediate answer. "Rigged."

"Yeah, I can see that," Nite Owl paused, tilting his head. He had heard something suspiciously like a whimper. "Is… is someone in there with you?"

"New piece of the puzzle. Can you open the door without danger to yourself?"

"I think so. Give me a minute."

***

With the insulated gloves on, it only took a moment to unhook the device from the doorknob. It let go in a spray of sparks and he felt it vibrate in his hands a moment before he broke it open. He was starting on the new lock when Rorschach curtly told him to get out of the way. He stepped back and then the door was kicked open hard from the inside. Rorschach stepped out and dragged a woman out with him. She was sniveling around a bloodied nose and cradling a badly burned hand. Nite Owl looked from her to Rorschach.

"Acquired a cellmate not long ago," Rorschach said. "Door opened, threw her in, and shut again. Heard the new lock go on. She tried the door. Would've been electrocuted if I hadn't pulled her away from it. You." He gave her a shake and she whined. "Tell him what you told me."

"_You_ tell him, you know everything!" She wiped at her nose smearing it along her cheek. He just twisted her elbow the wrong way until she squeaked. "Ok! His name's Buck! They, they took his kid. He was supposed to let them into the museum so they could grab some stuff. That's all, ok? That was _ALL_. Nobody was supposed to get hurt!"

"And what do you have to do with all this?" Nite Owl asked. She wouldn't look at him and mumbled a few words. Rorschach's grip on her arm tightened and she gasped.

"I let them take her! _Ok_? I've been seeing Buck for awhile. He was… he was talking about us maybe getting married. I knew what the guys wanted, and I let them take the girl for a cut." She tried to look defiant, but it crumbled quickly. "Buck found out. He's killing off the guys and now he's going to kill me! I saw the news, ok? I know he's killing everybody who had anything to do with this. My stupid kid brother was in that gang and he's _DEAD_ and Buck said I'd die the same way if I didn't tell him where Gwen is and I don't _KNOW_! They didn't _tell_ me where they took her!"

While Rorschach stood rigid in disgust at having to touch her and Nite Owl managed to cover his horror in a stern glare, she started to cry.

"Adam's dead and Gwen's gone and Buck's gonna kill us all! I thought he was a nice guy, you know? Good job, decent neighborhood, cute kid. But he's out of his mind! He's out of his mind and he'll kill us all!"

"Who is this guy really?" Nite Owl asked, but he was looking at Rorschach, who nodded slowly.

"Not the work of an amateur," he agreed. "Requires some research. Take this to police first." He gave the woman a shake and she sobbed.

"Need to stop by the hospital too," Nite Owl agreed. "Check on our survivor." Rorschach looked up and Nite Owl gave him a quick thumbs up. Some of the tension dissolved from his frame, but only for a moment. In the next heartbeat he had yanked the woman back to her feet and was forcing her back the way they had come.

The woman whimpered and wept all the way to the police station. Her hand would need some attention and the nosebleed was from the electric shock, rather than Rorschach, which was a relief. Sort of. She was too young for the man in the picture, but was pretty and well-kept, despite a leaning toward what Dan hesitated to call trashiness. It was easy to imagine her as a nowhere gutter kid, taking up with an older man with a steady job and hoping to get a better life out of it.

And Buck, whoever he was, a widower with most of his life spent in prison, raising a child by himself and probably lonely couldn't be blamed for enjoying the attention of a cute girl who was anxious to run away with him. He had probably been glad to have a companion for himself and maybe be a mother to his child. Too bad he'd picked a traitorous one with a gang member brother.

"What did your brother's gang want from the museum?" he asked aloud. All the fight had gone out of her. She answered quietly.

"They were always talking about making a name for themselves. They wanted to do _something_ that would get them some attention. Every dog wants to be the biggest dog. They were doing some selling and running out of Chinatown." Here Rorschach looked up. "But they were tired of being errand boys, you know? Wanted to impress the new bossman with something from China. All Buck had to do was let them in the back door after hours and make sure the alarm didn't go off.

"What the hell was he thinking??" she asked suddenly, looking up at them both. "All he had to do was push the button and open the door. It would all be over now. Why would he kill those other guards?"

"Because they would remember him," Rorschach growled, turning to face her. She shrank back. "Because it wouldn't ever be over. Because any police attention would be too much. Had to remove everyone that knew, everyone that remembered. You might've been spared when he believed you to be innocent, but now he knows and you're on the list with everyone else in his way."

Her lip trembled. Rorschach didn't relent.

"Who was he before you met him? Did he ever tell you? Anything you found digging around in his house?"

"What? No! I knew he'd served some time before he came to New York. He's got a therapist that he used to see. After his wife died. And some pills he takes for his nerves. But I, I never saw anything! He was always good to Adam. Said he knew what it was like."

'Was he good to _you_?" Nite Owl asked. She had to pull her lips into a tight line to keep them from wobbling right off her face. After a moment of fighting them, she had to nod. "Why the evil stepmother routine then? Why would you betray him and sell his baby like that?"

"Might've been a good man," Rorschach rumbled. "But you ruined it. Ruined him. Should've thrown you back into whatever hole you crawled out of."

He might've gone on, but they had arrived at the police station. Rorschach went to see what he could find out about Buckland while Nite Owl took the girl in. The last exchange had hit her pretty hard. She just held her good arm over her face and let herself be lead off. Rorschach reappeared with a file under his arm and since Dan wasn't sure he had asked nicely for it, they left quickly.

"Changed his name when he got out of prison." Rorschach said as soon as they were back in Archie.

"What was he in for?"

"Masked villain, Daniel. West Coast. Shut down an entire power grid as a prank. Just a kid, but they tried him as an adult because the outage caused planes to crash. 228 dead."

"Aw jeez…"

"Gave him a year for every one of them. Only served 20. Lots of therapy. Released 9 years ago. Been out of trouble ever since." There was a long pause. "Wife died in a car crash 6 years ago. His daughter is 7."

"If he was going to revert to old habits he would've done it then, " Nite Owl said. "Grief and single parenthood have broken more stable people than him."

'Didn't though."

"What put him under a mask in the first place?"

"Psychotic attraction to electricity. Believed it be a living entity. Only way to see it was to release it. After his own release worked some menial jobs. After wife's death took job as electrician for subway system."

"Probably needed the better pay for daycare. Exposed himself to temptation, but didn't act on it for years. Any mention of why he took the security job at the museum?"

Rorschach shook his head. "Was considering marriage. Maybe needed extra income for ring."

"I almost feel sorry for the guy."

"Poor judgment. No excuse."


	14. Chapter 14

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was dark again and Dan was realizing exactly how long he had been awake. He put his hands on the controls without starting the engine.

"I don't know if you need to sleep, buddy, but I'm starting to drag." He raised his goggles to rub underneath them for a moment. "_Do_ you need sleep?"

"I don't need it." Rorschach said. "Rest sometimes, to think. That's all.

"Figures," Dan said, smiling. "How about we visit Walter and rest a little while the computer processes our boy Buck and where the girl might be?"

"Would have better luck questioning gang survivors."

"Are there any?"

"Someone knows, Daniel." What was surely a fierce glare turned on him. "Finding that person. I can do that better than your machine." He waved a hand at the screens and collapsed into his chair, almost in a huff. "Do want to see Walter," he mumbled next.

"We'll do that first," Dan agreed, starting Archie up. "And I have to ask you this, but you don't have to answer if it's a secret. Ok?" He glanced sideways at Rorschach and saw that he had his attention. "The other night, you said that Walter gave you his strength. Will you explain that?"

"He was breaking," Rorschach said after a moment. "Too much held in. Couldn't be what he was and what he felt the need to be. Couldn't be both. Couldn't not be. Hated himself for it. Broke a few mirrors so he wouldn't have to look."

Dan nodded. He wasn't sure he understood all this, but wanted to encourage Rorschach to continue.

"Was afraid he'd go insane. Didn't want to go back to a home. Grew up in one. Was miserable. Saw things. Heard voices. One of them was mine. Then, he saw me. Recognized me as what he had been missing."

Dan processed that, waiting for more. When none seemed to be coming, he decided to push his luck with one more question.

"What were you like before that? Did you recognize him too?" Rorschach looked at him without speaking, then shrugged.

"Don't remember."

They were coming up on the hospital now, so Dan let the conversation trickle off. He landed on the roof.

"If we're going to keep going, I have to sleep," he said. "You go visit awhile and I'll grab a nap. I can't really go swishing through the halls dressed like this anyway. Tell him I said hi."

Rorschach nodded and ducked out of the hatch. Dan settled down into his chair and let his eyes close. In what seemed like no time at all, he heard the hatch opening again. It was completely dark now and it took him a moment to realize that NYC was never ever this dark. There were no streetlights or lit windows in sight. The skyline was barely visible against the night sky, black on black.

"Rorschach…?" he called, not certain he was awake yet.

"Nite Owl." The answer was all business. He heard footsteps on the stairs and changed his goggle settings. He was starting Archie's engines when he noticed that there was more than one set of footsteps and turned around to see Rorschach helping Walter into the cockpit. Walter was still in his hospital pajamas and wrapped in a blanket. Rorschach was holding his IV bags.

"Power's out," Rorschach said before he could ask. "Generators not responding. Hospital in chaos. Dangerous in there."

"My fault," Walter said at once. He looked pale, but calm. "I didn't want to stay. Asked him to take me."

"No, it's fine," Dan heard himself say. He imagined the hospital plunged into darkness, life support systems and monitors going down, staff scrambling to help, patients calling out in fear or anger. It would be a nightmare. It didn't make sense that everything had gone crashed at once though. Unless they were dealing with a super villain who knew his way around a power grid. "The only way the generators would be out is if they had been tampered with," he said, standing up. Rorschach nodded.

"Located in lower basement. Might still be down there if we hurry."

Dan was already moving. Rorschach fussed over Walter until Dan was out and then followed him down. Outside of Archie, the cries from the people inside the hospital were audible. Without light or elevators, it took longer to get to the generator basement and it was pitch black down there. Rorschach got out his flashlight. They passed two bodies in staff outfits, probably coming to see what had gone wrong. Both were still breathing, so they left them.

Ahead of them in the dark, they could hear a voice. As they got closer, it separated into two voices. One was young and high with fear. The other was neither.

"You're the one they call Macy, right?" It was calm, almost pleasant.

"Buck, you know it's me! You know I wouldn't have anything to do with this! You know me!"

"I don't know any of you, Macy. And none of you know me. It's sad, really."

"Buck, please, what are you doing..? Buck!"

Rorschach and Nite Owl both hurried forward at that, but then Rorschach stopped. There was a door in the way. The doorknob had something attached to it. Rorschach reached for it, but Nite Owl grabbed him away, hissing for him to wait. They argued as quietly as they could over who should open it. On the other side, the conversation continued.

"I'm getting this floor mat nice and wet, son. That's all. I got your hands all strapped to the conduits while you were K-Oed, but just to be sure…"

"No! No, you can't !"

"Macy…"

"You can't kill me! You can't! I'm the only one left that knows where the kid is! Kill me and you'll never find her!"

"Macy…" This time, the quiet menace in his tone made the kid go quiet. "I know where she is. Your friends stashed her in that broken freezer in the back of the old diner you boys like to hide out in. That's not why I'm upset."

"So it's all good, right? No blood, no foul, right? You can let me go and-"

"Macy." Silence fell again. "I'm upset because none of you geniuses thought to make sure there was an air hole."

"Oh God…" Nite Owl whispered. He slapped Rorschach's hands away again. "No, dammit, let me!"

"No time!" Rorschach hissed, all but climbing Dan's back in outrage to get into the room. It was hard to say which person he wanted to hit harder.

"I've almost got it! Stop it!" He was cutting wires and trying not to think about what other traps might still be inside.

"Little girls need air, Macy. But we're going to make it right, you and me. You left my baby to die-"

"No! I-"

"But you're going to save someone else's. This generator, Macy, powers the children's wing of the hospital. I ruined the connection earlier when I lost my temper. But I'm going to fix it now, with a little help from you."

"Don't! It'll kill me!"

"Some of those kids are on life support, Macy. They're good kids. Never hurt anybody. You're going to save them, son. You'll be a hero."

Macy screamed again, a wordless sound of denial and Buck flipped whatever switch he had been tinkering with. Dan yanked the door trap off and Rorschach kicked the door open in time to see the current shott through Macy's body from one hand to the other. The generator he was strapped to flared into life. The overhead light came on with a buzz, revealing a man they both recognized, even without his security uniform.

"Mind the floor," Buck said pleasantly. "I spilled a lot of water, and we're running hot."

Buck was tall and sturdy, wearing a full suit of what was probably hardcore electrical gear. He almost reminded Nite Owl of a younger Hollis except for the hair. Buck's hair was long enough to be in a short ponytail and had a white streak at one temple. Nite Owl didn't remember it from the night they'd seen him. Maybe the shock of finding his daughter in a freezer had done that.

It would be perfect for an electric super villain, Nite Owl found himself thinking. Mousse it up into spikes with that white streak. Maybe have a white streak through the mask too. It would be dynamic. Rorschach was heading forward, and Nite Owl had to grab his arm to pull him back from the puddles of water.

"Look at you two," Buck said. "My Gwenie would be over the moon to see you. She's too young to remember any of the heroes from LA."

"Your daughter," Nite Owl said, aiming Rorschach toward a dry patch of the floor. "Killing them is not going to bring her back. We found your girlfriend. She told us everything."

He had hoped mention of the girlfriend would mean something to Buck, but he didn't even blink. Rorschach was circling around to get between him and the other door.

"She was blue when I found her," Buck said. "I had to hook her up to my car battery to get her little heart going again." He pointed at the ceiling. "She's up there. They have to see if there will be lasting brain damage." He turned slightly to keep Rorschach in sight. "So that wing can have power back. The rest of the guards and gang members I'm not so worried about."

"No reason to kill coworkers except to cover tracks. No reason to kill Wen Than except for misdirection." Rorschach's voice was chilling. Where had that part of him come from? Could Walter ever sound like that? "Murderer."

"Macy here makes my body count an even 250." Buck replied. "The first 228 just about drove me crazy, but with therapy, I came to accept what I had done. I can accept this, too."

"What about Kelly?" Nite Owl asked, just to keep him talking while Rorschach circled. "Why did she deserve to die?"

"Because she paid attention, remember? She was proud of that. And if you had gone back, like you did, waving a news article about me, like you were, she would've told you everything. I made it quick. Enough juice to shut her down before she had a chance to feel it." Buck seemed to lose interest in Rorschach and began peeling off his gloves. Rorschach sank into a crouch. "She's part of it now. It went through her like the tide and carried her own juice away to merge with it. She's here, in that light bulb, coursing through all the walls and wires. She can hear me. She understands."

Nite Owl saw the gleam of metal across the man's hands and the echoing gleam in his eye. Rorschach went from motionless to full attack in the next heartbeat. Nite Owl lunged forward with a shout of warning. Buck turned too, aiming one hand at each of them. Rorschach changed direction in midair, twisting like a cat trying to get its feet under it. A bolt of blue-hot energy shot from each of Buck's palms. It would've caught Rorschach square in the chest if he hadn't dodged. The other would've hit Nite Owl in the face if his partner hadn't suddenly tackled him out of the way.

The resulting shockwave shattered the light bulb and they heard his boots splashing away at a run as they struggled to untangle. Rorschach was up first and Nite Owl had to grab him again.

"We can't just chase him blindly! Odds are he'll have traps all over!"

"Can't kill me! Let go!"

"Think! He has to come back here for his daughter."

"Kill others in meantime. You heard him. Insane. Doesn't think his victims are really dead."

"Who's left to kill?" It could've been a rhetorical question, but Rorschach took it seriously.

"Girlfriend," he said. "Police station."


	15. Chapter 15

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A quick flight to the police department found the place in chaos. The girl had been there when the power went out and now she was the only one missing. Everyone else seemed to be alive so Nite Owl and Rorschach left them to their pandemonium. Under their feet, they could feel the subway rumble by and they looked at each other. It was as good a place to look as any.

Archie had been parked in an empty tunnel. Walter had been advised to sit tight and help himself to coffee, and the two heroes had made their way to search for Buck. Walter settled himself down to wait. He didn't want to drink their coffee, since they would need it more when they got back. Besides that, he didn't see a bathroom anywhere and didn't want to tempt fate. He was heartily sick of IV needles in his arm and was keeping a careful eye on the bags. They were almost empty, and as soon as they were, he was pulling the things out.

He checked the bag again and noticed it quivering. He leaned against the side of the ship and felt a vibration through the metal too. Maybe the power was coming back on? Maybe Rorschach and Nite Owl had caught the lunatic and were on their way back. Then a train roared by, close enough to clip Archie's side. The impact rocked the ship like a hammock, knocking Walter off the bench. Gasping with fright, he crawled to the front to check the map that Nite Owl had brought up again. These tracks were supposed to be empty!

Up by the screen were also Nite Owl's insulated gloves. There was a moment of panic. The map was wrong and the gloves were left. If Buck could control electricity and change subway routes, then Rorschach and Nite Owl could be in real trouble. Not that they couldn't handle it. They were professionals. They knew what they were doing. He sat for a few more minutes, trying to get his breathing to calm down. What did he think he could do after all, besides get lost, hurt, killed, or in the way?

Another train went rocketing by, not hitting them this time, but jostling him hard enough to knock him down again. It was completely empty, like a ghost train, or a child's toy. He clutched an armrest, mind in a whirl. He couldn't stay here. He couldn't leave the ship to be hit by a train. He couldn't move the ship out of the way. He didn't know how. He didn't know what to do. What could he do?

Go get help, he told himself. Take the gloves. If it wasn't a life or death moment, maybe Nite Owl could tell him what button to push to get Archie to scoot over. And it gave him an excuse to remove the IV. He pried the needles out of his arm and slapped the band aids flat. He took the gloves and let himself out of the hatch. He made sure there wasn't another train coming and hurried over to the maintenance walkway.

Two more trains went by, along with about 15 minutes, and he could hear the next one on its way from wherever they kept coming from. He could also hear voices now, shouting. and he came around a bend in time to see a bolt of energy glance over Nite Owl. Slight as the contact was, it sent him reeling backwards onto the tracks. Up on the platform, Rorschach and Buck were fighting like tigers. Rorschach was tearing into him at too close range to shoot him, so it was hand to hand for now.

Walter ran to hold the gloves out to Nite Owl, but his wrist was grabbed instead. The other train was still coming, and Nite Owl used his arm to pull himself up out of the way. The train went slamming by, making both of them flatten up against the wall. Through the empty windows they could see Rorschach and Buck still fighting.

"What are you doing here??" Nite Owl yelled over the noise.

"Your ship got hit by a train!" Walter shouted back. "Not badly though. And you forgot your gloves!"

"Where are these damn things coming from??" Nite Owl kicked uselessly at the train as it went by, but took the gloves. Through the windows, they saw Rorschach rip a mechanism off Buck's shoulder. Buck was able to get his other hand up and hit him with a bolt. Rorschach was sent flying, his blots bubbling into lace the way they had before. Nite Owl swore again.

As soon as the train passed, Buck fired another one at them. Nite Owl shoved Walter out of the way and leaped under it. Walter ended up on the tracks himself this time. He 'oofed' and started to get to his feet when every hair on his arm stood up. He was only inches from the electrified rail. He got up more carefully, and clambered off the tracks. Both Rorschach and Nite Owl were fighting Buck now. Only one arm of Buck's power suit seemed to be operational. Rorschach must've damaged the other arm too badly.

"What did you do with the girl?" Nite Owl demanded.

"Nothing." Even out of breath and brawling, Buck's voice was mild. "I'm taking her with me. Gwen loves her, and a child needs a mother."

"Crazy," spat Rorschach. "Let that viper back in your house."

"She was loyal to her family, and now her family is all gone," Buck grinned. "She has no one to be that loyal to but us now. "

"Deserve each other."

"It's better this way. This way, Gwen won't ever know." Buck said and unleashed another bolt. Rorschach dodged most of it, but caught enough to make him stagger. Some smoke rose off him. Nite Owl took advantage of Buck's attention being on his partner to lay into him, tearing another handful of wires and parts off. Crouched on the other side, Walter was watching so carefully he didn't notice the next train passing until it tore between them.

A stray energy bolt flared overhead. It crackled down the tunnel over the train, collapsing part of the ceiling, and filling the station with dust. The train passed and as the dust started to settle, he could see the fight going on across the tracks. How had that madman been able to hold off both Nite Owl and Rorschach this long? A vicious kick was blocked and Rorschach's hat went sailing. Walter saw it fall off the platform edge and hesitated, then charged to go get it before the next train could come.

Buck had to be running out of juice, Nite Owl thought. He was obviously getting tired and lights were dimming throughout his gear. They just had to wear him down a little longer. That hopeful thought was interrupted as another bolt tore into Rorschach, but Nite Owl finally saw something like fear in Buck's eyes as Rorschach got up with only a slight sizzle. A grim realization replaced that look, though. He was wasting power, throwing it at Rorschach, and that only left him one target. Nite Owl braced for the attack to come his way, but instead, Buck aimed at Walter.

"No!" they both screamed. They both lunged to block the shot, but Rorschach was a little faster. Buck grinned and quickly fired at Nite Owl . The bolt hit him square, the first time he had taken a direct hit. Fire and lightning sang through his veins like a choir of beestings. He couldn't move or scream or think, and then a kick sent him sprawling hard off the platform and onto the tracks again.

He could hear a roar from Rorschach and Walter was shouting something about one of the rails. He couldn't make out what it was, all his instincts were occupied trying to get him back to his feet. He felt hands pulling at him, pulling him back from something. It was Walter, he realized as his vision cleared. And here came another train. Trust NYC to need a villain to get the subways on time.

They saw the train hit the wreckage that had collapsed and derail. They saw the first car lurch sideways and tear out the side of the wall. They saw the wall of train and debris come bearing down at them. Rorschach saw it too. So did Buck.

"The trick to keeping yourself sane," Buck said, backing towards the exit. "Is living with the decisions you make." He wore a smile that said he honestly didn't care which one Rorschach chose.

Rorschach growled, but leaped to help Walter and Nite Owl. He heaved Nite Owl up on the catwalk and tossed Walter up after him a heartbeat before the train and wreckage hit him. It ground him from their sight, and Nite Owl saw a flash of black and white shredding under the train wheels before everything went completely black.


	16. Chapter 16

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_This was written for the Watchmen kinkmeme. The original prompt was this link: __**www . youtube . com /watch ?v =s 6NNXLfYRQA**__ (all spread out) __and the idea was that instead of a mask, Walter makes a full-sized doll that somehow comes to life and takes on the identity of Rorschach._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You can't die!"

The voice woke Dan up and he wished it hadn't. Every part of him hurt. When his eyes opened some grit fell into them. He gasped and felt more of it in his mouth. His head throbbed inside the cowl and his whole body burned. Even his fingernails hurt. If they were even still attached. He wasn't sure how well he could move and the grit seemed to be in his head too, making it hard to think.

"Returning," said a different voice, this one more familiar. Rorschach. Thank God.

Dan shifted, trying to move an arm up to change his goggle setting so he could see. A piece of lens fell in when he touched it, making him flinch. It didn't go in his eye, but he pulled the whole thing off and tried to sit up.

Beside him was a body, parts of it anyway. He recoiled, smacking his head against something. It took awhile to focus through the pain and panic. It was Rorschach, bits and pieces of him arranged out into a human shape. He had been shredded under the train heels, and black fluid seeped like blood from the torn edges. The head was missing, along the shoulder and arm, and both legs from the knees down.

Over his own harsh breathing, he could hear someone crying. He couldn't place who it sounded like, so he clambered up to his hands and knees, gasping at the pain in his joints. Who was down here with them? Buck. And Walter. That's who it was. He tried to call out to them, but his throat wasn't working.

"I came from you," Rorschach's voice said. "Everything I am, you were first. You were just too close to recognize it until you made me." Walter's voice rose high in distress and Dan finally made it to where he could see him hunched over Rorschach's head. It was deflating in his hands while he cried over it.

"Wasn't me you saw," Rorschach said, his voice fading as his head flattened out and the blots became still. "Just a reflection of yourself." Walter sobbed and Dan felt his own throat tighten. This wasn't supposed to happen. It took a few more tries to get his voice working and Walter jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Hey," Dan rasped. "You ok?" It was a stupid question. Of course he wasn't. "It's all in one piece at least," he said, voice barely above a hopeful whisper. He nodded at the head. "You can put him back together once we find all the pieces, right? You can fix this?"

"He's so quiet…." Walter's voice was barely a whisper at all and carried enough despair to weigh Dan's heart back down to his boots. Walter stretched the mask out and slid his hand inside to hold it up. The still patterns came back to life against his skin, black pooling in his palms to make a face entirely too much like a skull.

"Well, he can't be dead, right? Right? He kept telling me he couldn't be killed. If we can get him all back together he'll be ok, right?"

"I can't hear him." Walter looked up at Dan. He had shut down, looking blank and empty, even of despair. "He's gone."

"What? No…" Dan cast around desperately for hope. "We can still keep looking ."

"For what?" The voice was soft and monotone and the eyes had gone completely flat. Dan couldn't bring himself to face either of them. While he fumbled for words, anything comforting or encouraging, Walter shuddered and then suddenly retched.

"Oh God," said Dan, ashamed to have forgotten that Walter was sick. He should be in the hospital. His kidneys could be shutting down even now. He put an arm around him to steady them both "We have to get you back to the hospital."

"No," was the quiet answer, but Dan wasn't listening.

"It'll be all right," he said, mouth going into damage control while his concussion keep tripping his ideas as they scurried around his head. "We'll get you checked out and I'll come back and keep looking…"

"No." This time it was louder and Walter started to pull away from him. Dan's grip tightened involuntarily. He didn't want either of them to fall. "Nothing to look for."

"There's still some pieces missing-"

"THEY'RE JUST PIECES!" Walter screamed like it had been pulled out of him with fish hooks. He tried to jerk free of Dan's arm. "LET GO!"

"Wait!" Dan felt panic closing in on him. He had to take care of something, fix some part of this, just to give him enough ground to stand on so that he could comprehend the rest. He grabbed Walter's arm again, harder than he meant to, and Walter punched him. It was enough force to knock him backwards, making him stumble against the wall, but he kept his grip on the arm. "Just wait!"

Walter hit him again and then again when he didn't let go. When Dan pulled him closer, still trying to talk to him, he just exploded. Dan held him as tight as he dared, let him scream and thrash as tears and punches rained down on him. Walter was surprisingly strong for his size, just like Rorschach had been, and using the past tense in his thoughts was enough for his own grief to choke his throat shut. The pain from Walter's pummeling faded to nothing but the distant thud of bare fists on his armor. He couldn't believe Rorschach was just gone, but Walter knew him better than anyone and was clearly out of his mind with despair. If Walter believed he was gone, what hope was there?

_But_, an internal voice whispered, _what if he isn't gone? He said returning. What if he just went back to where he came from?_

I don't know where he came from! Dan wailed back. And then, just as suddenly, he did.

"Walter," he gasped, jerking back to awareness in time to block the next punch. "Walter, listen!" He had to grapple with him a moment, pin his arms, and force his head up to look at each other. It hurt, and he probably wouldn't have been able to if the other man wasn't so close to exhaustion. Walter was a mess, tear-streaked and runny-nosed, and alternately red and pale. "I don't think he's all gone. I think I know where he went."

"No," Walter shook his head and struggled to pull loose. "You don't know. You don't know anything."

"You could barely look me in the eye before and now you're beating the hell out of me? Where did that come from?"

"I…" The question seemed to break through. Walter looked at his hands as if he wasn't sure how they had turned into fists. His knuckles were raw from pounding against the armor and Dan could see the scratches and torn nails from digging through the rubble. Walter had dug with his bare hands to find the pieces of his friend. "…sorry…" he finally said.

"Help me up," Dan said. As relieved as he was to have Walter calm down, he didn't want him retreating into the blankness again. Walter did and then turned to pick up Rorschach's hat. He put the head into it and clutched both to his chest. Dan couldn't bear to leave the pile of scraps already found and scooped them up. Walter didn't say anything and they made their way back to Archie without speaking at all.

It took a long time. The catwalk had been destroyed as car after car had keep smashing into tunnel. They had rubble to crawl over and dig through. The only comfort was that no one had been in the cars. This would be a total bloodbath if there had been passengers. Dan was fairly certain that he had a concussion and God only knew what kind of internal damage from being hit with the electric bolt. He still felt the fiery jabs all through his body.

Buck was still out there. That thought resurfaced with enough force to make him stumble again. Walter slowed down to let him catch up. Buck was going to take the child and his girlfriend and get away with everything.

_No he wasn't_, whispered the internal voice again, going dark and sinister. _But first things first._

There wasn't much damage to Archie, but Dan had to fix it without help. Walter sat lobotomized in the back while Dan got it back into shape. He didn't speak when Dan asked where to take him, didn't seem aware of being spoken to. He just sat there, clutching the fedora to his chest, face an expressionless mask aimed at the floor. Dan could feel his own grief bubbling up under the surface, but told himself it was too soon to break down. The last time he had been sure Rorschach was dead, it had only taken three days to get him back again. And he was still on the hero clock. He couldn't fall apart in full costume, not in front of a civilian. He still had to take care of Walter.

The city was still dark when they got into the air again. Something was on fire out toward the waterfront, probably somebody's candle in the blackout. There was already a swarm of fire trucks there, and what could they do really, in the shape they were in?

"I know you don't want to go back to the hospital," Dan said aloud. "And you won't tell me where you live, so maybe it would be best to stay at my house until the power comes back. We can decide where to go from there."

No answer. Walter didn't speak the entire trip back. Dan shuffled him into the guest room. He sat on the edge of the bed, still holding the hat, eyes still down.

"Do you want to take a shower?" Dan asked. "I've got some spare clothes you can change into. Or if you're hungry? I can heat up something. It's no trouble. Or… or… would it help to talk?" The last was offered so timidly that Dan almost made a face at the sound of his own voice. It had been a long time since he had felt this helpless and pathetic.

"No," Walter finally said, still toneless. There was a long pause before he added. "Thank you."

"Ok…" Dan backed away from the door. "I'm going to wash up then. Help yourself to anything, ok?"

No answer again, so Dan went to take a shower. The water ran gray off of him from all the subway grime. The water pressure was uncomfortable against his skin, still aching from the bolt. He was shaking, he realized after a moment. How long had that been going on? He leaned his head against the shower tile and swallowed hard. He felt tears burn in his eyes and was glad to let them fall. Maybe it was the compromise that had done it. Maybe having to choose between saving them and capturing Buck was what had really killed Rorschach. Without that strict principle, maybe whatever he was had just dissolved. It was easy for Dan to blame humself. He hadn't been fast enough to dodge, or strong enough to recover in time. If he had been, none of this would've happened. Buck wouldn't have gotten away. Rorschach wouldn't have been torn to scraps. Walter wouldn't be left broken like this.

He dried off, got dressed, and limped back down. Walter hadn't moved, so Dan went to sit next to him on the bed.

"What will you do now?" he asked. When no answer came, he went on. "You can stay here as long as you want." Dan wasn't sure how he would take that, so he hurried to add. "Or just until you feel better. I.. don't want you to be alone."

"Always been alone." Walter's voice was gruff. "Even when I was talking to him, I was really just talking to myself."

"Then who was talking to me?" Dan asked. Walter's forehead crinkled in thought for a minute, and when he looked up again, the blankness had gone back to despair.

"I don't know," he whispered.

Dan was quiet, thinking it over. Walter must've heard the gears turning because something more hopeful crept into his expression. Dan had to admit that there were probably whole chapters a psychologist could write about separate identities and split personalities and alter egos, but he doubted they would be able to understand anything about the strength of will it would take to manifest those needs and desires into a whole separate entity. It was mind-boggling, but still anchored by the heaviness of loss. Even if he was right, things would never be the same. Walter wasn't the only one who had lost his only real friend. Sympathy for Walter corkscrewed into sorrow for himself.

His head drooped and he ran a hand into his wet hair and sighed. Walter sank back down with resignation. They sat quietly together for what felt like a long time. The silence hung over them until Dan could feel it dragging at his eyelids and weighing down on his injuries.

"Let's get some rest," he said finally. "Figure out what to do when my head isn't hurting like this. If you get hungry or want a shower, help yourself to anything. Ok? I mean it. Make yourself at home." Walter didn't answer, but he made something like a nod. Dan said goodnight and went back to his own room.

In the morning Walter was gone, which Dan had halfway expected. He went to the doctor with a story about a fall down his basement stairs. He was declared bruised and concussed, prescribed some painkillers, and sent on his way. They didn't mention his electrical burns, so he didn't either. Maybe Rorschach was right about public hospitals.

When he felt up to it, he started going on patrol again. He was able to turn in whenever he felt like it now, with no one to growl at him, which only made him stay out longer. It was what Rorschach would've done. But he also had to remember that he didn't have anyone to watch his back when he got tired now. If he got slow or distracted and some punk got behind him, there was no one to stop the punch or stab or bullet. He had to be so much more careful now, and he hadn't realized how much he had relied on Rorschach's information gathering. He spent more time just flying around looking for trouble than he ever had before.

After the second week of that, he was refueling Archie when he felt eyes. He glanced at the tunnel and saw nothing and chided himself for wishful, if paranoid, thinking. The feeling didn't go away. He turned his back to try to lure the ambush out, if it was there. When that didn't work, he casually adjusted the settings on his goggles and turned back around. His heart almost stopped.

It was him. Had to be. Couldn't be. But it was. The silhouette was the same. Height, build, all identical. Slowly, he came into the light, revealing the shifting mask under a fedora, the belted coat, the pinstriped pants. While disbelief warred with relief, the apparition did something he'd never seen Rorschach do before. It gave him a quick sideways look, then paid sudden attention to the floor. Rorschach had never done that, but Walter had.

"My God," Dan said as comprehension sank in. _That voice is back in his head and he's wearing his other head like a mask and this time there __**is**__ a person under there and-_ "You're back!" he said before his thoughts could fly all to pieces. There was an almost Walter-ish falter, but then a definitely Rorschach-like nod.

"Yes," he said. The voice was Rorschach's and always had been Walter's. "Daniel."

His name, spoken like that sent a quiver of emotion through him. _Can't think about that yet_, he told himself. Not when he had been standing there staring long enough to see a slight shift in pose that would be self-consciousness in anyone else. Dan had elation and shock taking turns with his expression, but it finally let it settle into a grin.

"Thank God," he said aloud. "I was starting to talk to myself in there." He nodded toward Archie.

"Hrm. Know how that is." Rorschach said. It was all Dan could do not to hug him as he walked up to the hatch. "Back to work."

THE END


End file.
